Off The Record
by zoeller
Summary: A collection of Junjou Mistake fics. Number four: a continuation of "Adult Supervision Required."
1. Another Point of View

AN: I was put off by lack of Junjou Mistake-centric fic, so I decided to make my own. This will be a collection of JM fics/drabbles, updated as the inspiration hits me. I feel like the plot went lopsided on this one, but I was more concerned with the characterization here. Fits somewhere into the beginning of the JR timeline, after Isaka becomes the executive director.

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction. 

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><p>"You're going to be late to the meeting if you lay there any longer." Asahina's voice was close. Isaka, maybe an hour before, had felt the telltale dip of the bed, the split second of the alarm's shriek before Asahina hit the snooze. He'd not thought anything of it, though, and had immediately drifted off again.<p>

"The meeting?" Isaka shoved his face deeper into the pillow, cocooning himself into the bed. "Nngh."

"Ever the articulate one," Asahina murmured. Yes, he was definitely close by. Isaka cracked an eye; his partner was kneeling at the side of the bed, eyebrow arched and an unimpressed look plastered across his face.

"Shut up," he croaked. "It's early. Bring me some coffee."

Asahina chuckled, the low rumbling of his laughter followed by the sound of glass sliding across the bedside table. "Yes, Ryuuichirou-sama."

With a grunt, Isaka pulled himself up, sitting against the headboard with as much dignity as a man in his pyjamas with a bad case of bed head could. The coffee was perfect: black, with the remnants of a nearly melted ice cube at the top. It probably spoke poorly of him that he couldn't even wait for the coffee to cool, but Asahina, as he often did, said nothing of the odd habit. He merely put it into practice.

Asahina did a lot of things like that, really. He knew what Isaka wanted and offered it quietly, unquestioningly.

Isaka took a generous gulp from the mug, staring bleary-eyed around the room in an unconscious effort to force himself free of the last vestiges of sleep. "What time is it?"

"Ten minutes after eight. The meeting is at nine."

"Well," Isaka said cheerily, or what might have passed for cheery so early in the day, "fuck."

"The bath is ready. I'll call and postpone the meeting until ten. Do _not_," and here, Asahina's voice shifted from gentle to scolding, "fall asleep in the tub."

Isaka grunted in reply, intent on swallowing as much coffee as he could in one go. Then, he stumbled off to the bath, sinking into the water with a contented sigh. His eyes were already falling shut, the feel of the warm water – how _did_ Asahina always manage to get the temperature just right? – lapping against his skin just enough to lull him back to sleep. Asahina always compared him to a cat, lazy and indolent but still too independent for his own good. Actually, he said that rather a lot, particularly when Isaka did things as foolish as fall asleep in the water.

Considering the way Asahina thought of him, he sometimes wondered how _other_ people viewed him – and by extension, them. Because, no matter who he spoke to, Isaka wasn't just himself. He was Isaka-and-Asahina, or Isaka-and-secretary. Isaka's mother, for one, tended toward the belief that Asahina was her son's babysitter – a permanent one. Curiously, she'd dropped the subject of marriage about the same time Isaka dropped the misconception that Asahina was in love with his father.

It made sense, in a way. His reputation wasn't the greatest. Oh, he was good at his work, every bit deserving of his position in the company. But, as Akihiko often said, his worth ended at his job. He had a horrid personality.

Feeling a bit disgruntled at the turn of his thoughts, Isaka sank lower in the water. It was too damn early for all the introspection.

But even so, it wasn't about being spoiled or unable to take care of himself or, god forbid, needing someone else to take responsibility for him. No, it was, Isaka decided, a matter of control – but not the sort that any outsider would assume.

It was about _this_, whatever one could call what they had. It was about knowing without asking, about being so tied into each other that it was impossible to unravel themselves.

Asahina knocked on the door, three sharp raps. "Your time is up, Ryuuichirou-sama."

"Up?" Isaka demanded, shooting up out of the water. "I've only been in here—"

"Twenty minutes."

How the hell had that happened? "I'm coming," Isaka groused. There was nothing to it. Work was work, and if he didn't get himself going, there'd be hell to pay. Asahina would make sure of it.

He walked out of the bathroom, naked and dripping water everywhere. Asahina stared at him, hard, for a few beats. Then he rolled his eyes and grabbed a towel off the rack, slinging it over Isaka's head and scrubbing a touch too hard.

"Get dressed quickly. The meeting is at ten."

"You said already!" Isaka grabbed the towel from Asahina. "I'm up, I can do it."

Asahina opened his mouth to retort, but the phone rang. Isaka went to the mirror, listening to Asahina in the other room – he didn't sound pleased. The conversation was brief, but Isaka managed to get his hair dry before Asahina returned. He had one leg in his slacks when Asahina came in, glancing at his watch. He looked as composed as ever, but there was a telling strain in his jaw.

Isaka gave him a once over, then returned his focus to his clothes. "Who was that?"

A moment passed before Asahina answered. "My mother."

"Why was she calling the house line?"

"She couldn't get through to my cell phone."

"And?"

"She wants to see me tonight."

"So?" Isaka straightened his tie, giving his reflection one last look before stepping out of the room.

"You aren't invited."

_That_ caught Isaka off guard. "I'm not invited," he echoed.

The tense set of Asahina's jaw flexed, and Isaka knew he was grinding his teeth. "It's an _omiai_."

An _omiai_? As far as Isaka knew, Asahina's mother had never mentioned the idea of marriage. Not in front of him, at least, and never that Asahina admitted. He marveled at the twinge of irrational jealousy that flashed through him, then let out an incredulous snort. "You'll have to apologize to her, then," he said, casual. "We're meeting with sales about a possible drama CD tonight."

"Ryuuichirou-sama," Asahina began patiently, "that's a _lunch_ meeting."

"Not anymore, it's not." Isaka grabbed his phone from the dresser and sent a message to Yokozawa. "It's been rescheduled," he said, unable to keep the prickling irritation from his voice. "Tell her you're busy!"

His phone _dinged_, and Isaka glanced down at the screen. It was from Yokozawa. Isaka was good at reading between the lines, and in the curt, polite response that stated the man would take care of the rescheduling, he could read the _fuck you, you obtuse bastard_ clear as day.

Not that he expected any different from that guy.

"You really ought to think before you do things like that," Asahina reprimanded him, but there wasn't really any force behind it. His jaw relaxed, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "I wasn't going to go."

"Well, I know you weren't. I wasn't going to let you," Isaka said plainly.

"If that's all, I'll bring the car around." Asahina, still smiling, turned to leave, but Isaka caught his hand and pulled him back.

"Like you said," he pressed his nose to the sharp line of Asahina's jaw, "the meeting isn't until ten…"

Asahina's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't move away. "We really don't have the time," he began, but Isaka silenced him with a quick nip to his ear. With a sigh that fell somewhere between resignation and a rumbling purr, Asahina's hands fell to Isaka's waist, first gentle, then gripping tight.

So maybe the outside view wasn't necessarily a good one. Maybe people looked at them askance, unable to understand exactly what held them together, but that was neither here nor there. Isaka had never needed validation beyond his own desire, and so long as the power remained in his favor, he'd keep Asahina tied to him.

And if ever the subject of an _omiai_ was brought up again… Well, Isaka might conveniently miss the part of the invitation that excluded him. Asahina's mother, after all, should know better than anyone that where one of them went, the other was sure to follow.

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><p>Note: an <em>omiai<em> is sort of like a matchmaking session with the possibility of marriage in mind.


	2. Subtle Machinations

AN: Here's another one! This is set during JR Act 8. Isaka doesn't make a great deal of sense to me at the best of times, so I can't imagine Asahina has an easy go of it - the inspiration. Thank you to everyone who read, favorite, reviewed, or alerted the last fic!

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction. 

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><p>Sometimes, Asahina wished Ryuuichirou would be more straightforward. Not with him, of course. The man was utterly obvious to him. But something about the look on Takahashi's face when he left the award ceremony, bleak and weary, twisted Asahina's heart. Surely, there were other ways to deal with such things?<p>

But Ryuuichirou didn't even blink at the boy's abrupt departure. He was schmoozing, leaning in close to Akihiko and an actress, the sly smile on his face a touch too wide. Asahina's eyes fell to the drink in Ryuuichirou's hand.

Of course, he was drunk. Of _course_. He was probably three drinks away from propositioning Akihiko. Anything to drive the man Ryuuichirou still regarded as 'too serious' up the wall.

Asahina considered the situation at hand. He'd never had Ryuuichirou's ability to see from every angle, to imagine the possibilities at hand and twist any situation into his control. Instead, Asahina was stuck with the thought that they were writing off the boy's emotions for the sake of sales.

Position A: Exposing Usami Akihiko's involvement could hurt sales. There might even be legal repercussions from the Usami Corporation, depending upon how benevolent the author's father was feeling.

Position B: Discouraging the relationship would, quite simply, hurt the author himself, thereby _also_ hurting sales when his works begin to slide in quality.

It really didn't matter _how_ Asahina looked at it. That Ryuuichirou had encouraged the boy to tag along only to smash his hopes at the last moment didn't make sense in the least. He could have avoided the situation altogether by pressuring the boy to separate himself from Akihiko's professional life and stay home, safe and out of the way.

In the center of the room, Ryuuichirou slung his arm over Akihiko's shoulders, close enough to speak directly into the man's ear. Whatever he said must have been terribly irritating. Akihiko looked tempted to throw convention to the wind and deck the tipsy executive.

Shaking his head, Asahina decided to check on Takahashi. He'd been given a job, after all, and seeing it through would be much more bearable than watching his partner flirt all night long.

There was no sign of Takahashi in the corridor immediately outside the award hall. The restroom was down and to the left. To the right, one would find the rest of the hotel, leading back to the rooms.

Asahina went to the right.

His hunch paid off. Takahashi stood at the end of the adjacent corridor, as well as another familiar face. Usami Haruhiko was quite possible the last person Asahina thought he'd run into, yet there he was. They were speaking loudly enough that he could just make out what they were saying.

"…wanted to see you," Haruhiko was saying. Then he grabbed the boy's wrist and guided him into a nearby room, ending with a comment about "not needing to stand around and make a scene."

Well, Asahina though, watching the door swing shut behind them. _Well_.

Takahashi certainly had interesting group of acquaintances. Asahina debated for a moment whether he ought to intervene, but in the end, he chose to return to the ceremony. Akihiko pushed the door open just as Asahina went to grab the handle. He looked irritable, slipping out of his public persona like an overcoat.

"Usami-san," Asahina greeted, bowing his head respectfully.

"Misaki," the man said, "have you seen him?"

After years of following Ryuuichirou and cleaning up his messes, Asahina had developed a rather strong disposition. It took a lot to unnerve him. But the look on Akihiko's face – Asahina very nearly found himself avoiding the man's gaze.

"I believe he went that way," Asahina said, pointing to the right. "If you'll excuse me…"

Akihiko, having apparently no time for pleasantries, wasted no time in speeding down the hall and around the corner.

In spite of the urge to wash his hands of the incident, Asahina returned to the award hall. The main ceremony had ended, and all that was left was the after party. Ryuuichirou was at the far end of the room, sandwiched between Aikawa and an older balding gentleman whose face Asahina couldn't place.

He went through the room, sidestepping servers and guests alike, until he reached Ryuuichirou, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning in. "Usami-san has left the hall, Ryuuichirou-sama."

Ryuuichirou spun around, incredulous. Then he turned back to his audience, feeding them some asinine excuse or other, and followed Asahina back to the door. "Left? Left to go _where_?"

"After Takahashi-san, I believe," Asahina replied. "But we may have a problem."

"I'll say!"

"No, Ryuuichirou-sama," Asahina held the door open for the man, barely resisting the untimely habit of resting his hand on the small of his partner's back. "I mean, we _have a problem_."

Ryuuichirou looked at him, then, really looked at him. "Explain." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Were you aware that Haruhiko-san was staying at the hotel?"

Ryuuichirou's look of surprise was answer enough. "No. He was so adamant about _not_ coming to the ceremony, so I assumed he left right after his meeting." Then something clicked. Asahina could practically see the wheels spin into motion as Ryuuichirou's eyes narrowed. "He's here?"

"I followed Takahashi-san after he left the hall. Haruhiko-san found him first."

"And?"

"He took him to his room. Usami-san followed."

Ryuuichirou let a low stream of curses fly, delivering a sharp kick to the wall. "That asshole!"

For the life of him, Asahina couldn't figure out which of the brothers Ryuuichirou was referring to. "I doubt Usami-san will be returning for the after party."

"_Asshole_," Ryuuichirou reiterated. "Both of them. God!" Then he was off, striding down the hall so fast Asahina half expected him to break into a run. He went all the way across the hotel to Akihiko's room, where he proceeded to kick the door and yell at the top of his lungs.

It was unseemly. Asahina hid his laugh with a cough and turned his face away.

"I can't stand them," Ryuuichirou said later, on their way back to the hall. "Either of them."

"So you've said."

"I'll have to speak with Haruhiko now," Ryuuichirou lamented. "This was _not_ supposed to be this much trouble!" He'd taken to chewing his lip, a bad habit from his earliest days.

But then a thought struck Asahina. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why speak to Haruhiko-san? You don't need to get involved, do you?"

Ryuuichirou fixed him with an incredulous stare. "Eh? Really? Of course I do! _That bastard ruins everything._"

What, exactly, Haruhiko was ruining, Asahina couldn't ascertain. It seemed unlikely, based on his earlier actions, that Ryuuichirou was concerned about Takahashi's relationship to their star author. What difference, then, could Haruhiko's interference possibly make?

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Ryuuichirou-sama," he admitted.

"It's not important. Look, go direct the guests to the after party. I need to make a side stop."

"As you wish." Asahina watched him go. It still didn't make any sense, he decided. Any of it. As much as he prided himself on his ability to read his partner like a well-loved book, there were still times when Asahina couldn't even begin to fathom what was going through his head. The worst part of it was how surprised Ryuuichirou always seemed when Asahina would question his motives, as if he'd assumed Asahina was going step-for-step with him the entire way.

Involving himself wouldn't help. As usual, Asahina would stay silent and watch. If this was another of Ryuuichirou's well-crafted schemes, the end result would piece it all together.

_It's a bit like living with an evil genius_, he mused, returning to the hall. Later, when the after party was in full swing and Ryuuichirou slipped in through a side door, a smug grin playing at his lips, Asahina amended the statement.

He very likely _was_ living with an evil genius. 

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><p>Have ideas for prompts? Feel free to let me know!<p> 


	3. Adult Supervision Required

AN: Here's another! Thanks, as always, to everyone who read, reviewed, etc. It's always appreciated. And for those who reviewed, just a note of warning: I'm really technology challenged. I have NO idea how to do the review-reply thing. But I definitely do appreciate it! *fail*

The prompt for this one is based loosely off something I got off an internet story generator: 'He was the cleverest person I'd ever met, but he seemed to be malfunctioning in some way.'

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica and Sekaiichi Hatsukoi belong to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

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><p>Asahina was out of town on business for a grand total of two days before Isaka realized that his secretary being gone wasn't a passable excuse for not doing his work. He realized that, had in the beginning, but that didn't stop him from missing three straight meetings and falling asleep on his desk for hours at a time. Funny thing was, each time he woke up to the phone ringing, he expected it to be Asahina, somehow fully aware of what Isaka was doing and taking the time out of his busy day to chew him out over the phone.<p>

It was, strangely enough, never Asahina.

"This is the executive director's office," Isaka answered dully.

"You bastard," was the first thing he heard in Takano's characteristic growl. "We had a meeting! We had _two_meetings! How did you miss them both?"

Idly scrubbing the patch of drool from some invoice or other, Isaka answered: "Ah, that. Something came up."

There was silence. Then, "I'm coming to your office," Takano said, and hung up the phone. It quite sounded like a threat. Isaka was tempted to lock his door.

Instead, he made quick work of organizing his desk so it at least appeared that he was heavily involved in paperwork. By the time Takano barged in, Isaka was shuffling importantly through a stack of papers he hadn't read.

Takano dragged Asahina's chair in front of Isaka's desk and spun it around so he could rest his arms across the back and glower at Isaka. He didn't say anything for a few beats, just eyed the director over the top of his glasses. Then, "You've got a paper clip stuck to your forehead." He pointed somewhere above Isaka's right eye. "There."

Spitting a curse, Isaka swiped the offending piece of officeware off his face, and then cleared his throat, adopting the most professional expression he could manage. "Thank you," he sniffed.

Some indignant part of his mind insisted that such a thing was Asahina's job. How was he supposed to get anything done without the man around? If not for Takano, Isaka would be walking around Marukawa with god knows what stuck to his face all day long, and he'd bet every last cent he had that no one else would have bothered to point it out. Well, maybe Yokozawa, but Isaka got the impression that the man wanted to push him in front of a bus most of the time.

Takano handed him a file, diving into the specifics of a necessary reprint and taking a moment from the topic to bitch about the sales department once again falling short on their job. Isaka nodded in all the right places and stared morosely at Asahina's empty desk.

"You—you're not even listening to me, are you?" Takano's lips thinned. "Isaka," he began, "are you ill?"

"No." Isaka pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to wake up, maybe go grab a coffee and stand in the cool air outside for a few minutes.

Takano did not look convinced. He followed the line of Isaka's gaze, twisting around to stare at Asahina's desk. Then he sighed, a very put-upon sound, and stood. "You're useless," he announced. "Look those over."

"Right, right."

Over the course of the day, Isaka managed to fulfill Takano's request, though not as thoroughly as the man would have liked (50,000 copies? Was he insane?). By five o'clock, he called it a day and slunk out of the office like a wounded dog.

It really wasn't fair, how dependent he was on Asahina. It wasn't like _he_would be any worse off without Isaka! His productivity was still through the roof, no doubt. Next time Isaka's father wanted to 'borrow' his assistant, Isaka would be sure to say no.

"I'm just too giving for my own good," he told his replacement driver. The man, an older fellow with brows so thick his eyes were obscured from view, just shook his head and ignored him.

When he got home, he kicked off his shoes in the doorway and stumbled into the kitchen. There was still a half-full bottle of wine in the fridge, and Isaka didn't intend to waste it. He also didn't intend to bother with a glass because, _hah_, Asahina wasn't there to reprimand him.

A red light on the house phone was blinking. Loosening his tie, Isaka pressed the button for the voicemail and settled onto the couch, taking a swig from the bottle.

"One new message," the machine informed him. Then a much more familiar, human voice took over: "Ryuuichirou-sama," the message began. Isaka spit a mouthful of wine all down his front and scrambled over to the phone. "I received a call from Takano-san today."

"He told on me?" Isaka howled. "Bastard! I'll cut his pay!"

"I trust that it was a mere misunderstanding, and that you've been as efficient as always in my absence."

Isaka flailed the bottle at the phone, shrieking. "I don't have to take this from you!"

"The president also wished for me to inform you that our business in Osaka ended sooner than we expected. By the time you receive this, I'll already be on the flight home."

Isaka slumped back down onto the couch, clutching the bottle. "Shit."

"I should be in around eight this evening. I'll come straight to your house so we can review Emerald's reprint request, which, I've no doubt, you've already taken care of. Until then."

The machine beeped, confirming the end of the message. Isaka groaned.

He was going to absolutely murder Takano.

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><p>As before, if you have prompt ideas, feel free to let me know.<p> 


	4. Adult Supervision Required II

AN: This drabble is for **siri227**, who requested a continuation of the previous drabble. I hope you like it! The alternate title for this should be, "In which everything, ever, is Isaka's fault." And a big thanks to everyone reading so far!

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica and Sekaiichi Hatsukoi belong to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

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><p>The wine was gone. Isaka observed the empty bottle with all the detached interest of a man deep in the throes of inebriation. He'd shed his shirt, but his skin was still sticky with sweat and the lingering stink of alcohol.<p>

"I see you've kept yourself occupied," Asahina deadpanned. He draped his jacket over the back of the couch and rubbed his temples. "Ryuuichirou-sama…"

Isaka held up a hand. "Don't say it," he warned. "I can read your mind. I don't have to hear it out loud."

Asahina raised a brow. "You can read my mind, can you?"

Isaka scoffed. "I knew you were going to say that." He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped back into the couch, scowling petulantly at his assistant. "It's not my fault, you know."

"Is that so?" Asahina didn't seem terribly interested in hearing what Isaka had to say. He sat down on the adjacent loveseat and put his briefcase on the table, opening it. "I apologize for being so late. I stopped by the office before coming here."

Was he late? Isaka hadn't noticed. Ah, but the clock did say that it was some time after eleven in the evening, didn't it? And Asahina had promised to be home around eight. "Like I said: it's your fault."

"You didn't say that," Asahina corrected distractedly, thumbing through a file. "You just said it wasn't _yours_."

"Right, right," Isaka said, nodding. "It's not mine. Not yours. I blame Takano. That bastard," he tacked the last bit on almost as an afterthought, all while staring in wonderment at the ceiling.

"Speaking of Takano-san…"

Isaka groaned and covered his ears. "It's not true! Whatever it is! That bastard is spreading lies!"

That earned him a raised brow from Asahina. Vaguely, Isaka wondered how the man could do that so well on command, keep the rest of his face blank while expressing a multitude of emotions just through his damned eyebrows. Could he do that? Isaka tried, but from sudden wave of bemusement settling over Asahina's own expression, he decided no, he likely could not.

"If you're quite done," Asahina said, raising his voice just enough to quell any further histrionics from his partner, "there's this to discuss." He plucked one of the papers from the file and handed it to Isaka.

"Oh?"

_This _was the application of a recently hired employee. Isaka hadn't seen it yet, but then, he really wasn't sure what half the papers on his desk that day had been. When he reached the name, Isaka looked up. "Onodera? Really?"

Asahina nodded. "His father left a message on your office phone." There was a note of reproach in his voice. "Had you stayed the entire day, you would have known that."

"I stayed until five!" Isaka frowned. "Transferring to Marukawa, though? That's a bit…"

"According to Onodera-san, his son is looking to make a name for himself without his family's assistance."

Onodera Ritsu, age twenty-five, literature editor, worked with top authors… "He worked with Aikihiko? Impressive."

"There is a current opening in the literature department." Asahina started rifling through his briefcase again. "If you'll remember, one of the editors just…"

But Isaka wasn't listening. Rather, an idea was forming in his mind, one both promising in amusement and the perfect method of payback.

"If he wants to make a name for himself, perhaps he should start with a different venue?" Isaka sat up straight. "Hand me all the vacancy notices for the editing department."

"You've got that look on your face," Asahina observed. Nevertheless, he handed over the documents.

"There is no look," Isaka insisted, but even so, he could feel the corners of his lips tugging up. "Ah, here it is." He slapped a paper down on the table.

Asahina looked at the paper, looked at him, and sighed. "That would be Emerald's vacancy. Ryuuichirou-sama, that's not appropriate for Onodera-san's qualifications."

"If he wants to make it big on his own, then he needs to learn how to handle setbacks."

Oh, this would be brilliant. Isaka could just imagine the look on Takano's face when he heard he had to train an editor from the ground up. He'd probably cry. Isaka really hoped he would.

"Ryuuichirou-sama, I feel the need to remind you of something. People are not pawns."

"There, Asahina, you are wrong." Isaka set about writing notes on Onodera's application, working with a manic energy he hadn't felt in quite some time. "People are nothing but pawns. If they want to be better than that, they have to pull themselves up of their own accord."

Onodera would be better for it, anyway. Isaka was really helping the guy out, whether he knew it or not. And Takano? Well, the man would deal. Eventually.

"That's it," Isaka announced, dropping his pen and handing Asahina the paper. "Fax a copy to Emerald, a copy to me, and a copy to HR."

"Understood, sir." Asahina climbed tiredly to his feet. Isaka watched him amble over to the fax machine, wincing as the man's back cracked loudly.

Waiting until Asahina finished sending the papers, Isaka crept up behind him and pressed his knuckles into the man's back, working the tension out as best he could. Asahina groaned, his shoulders drooping, and his head fell back.

"And since all that's been taken care of," Isaka murmured into his ear, "why don't we retire for the evening?"

Asahina took to the suggestion with boyish enthusiasm, tugging Isaka toward the bedroom and winding his arms around his partner's body, the perfect welcome home.

Tomorrow, Isaka would set his plan into motion, fully prepared to sit back and watch the fireworks.

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><p>As always, if you have any prompt ideas, feel free to let me know!<p> 


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